


A new mourning

by FrankenBean



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 12:01:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18549352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankenBean/pseuds/FrankenBean
Summary: I wrote this poem after my grandfather passed away. We weren't close and I kind of regret never being able to get to know him.





	A new mourning

Mourning changes with each new day,  
A new beam of rising hope flicks across my vision  
Before the clouds pass over and block out its light.

The cold claws of guilt tear into my skin  
As I begin to realise that I do not mourn for you.  
I mourn for time and its relentless bid  
To tick, tock, tormenting tears.

I mourn for the time  
That could’ve been,  
Should’ve been –  
But wasn’t.

As the tears pass down  
Through familiar paths,   
Their salt blinds, burns  
And yet comforts through the pain

I did not know you,  
I remember you just barely  
And yet the slight knowledge I have is what stings with darkest poison,  
For I shall never know you again.

You are gone  
And I will never know you  
In the days that weren’t,  
For they have vanished.

I won’t ever again,  
Cough as you smoke one cigarette after another.  
I won’t ever again,  
Politely refuse your offer of tea.

I shall never again,  
Leave your door  
With the bitter-sweet thought that:  
Maybe next time we’ll bond better…

And perpetually, guilt’s claws maul me  
As I realise that the pedantic pendulum swings on with its bitter tick tock.  
The clock face grim with determination  
As its hands crawl relentlessly onwards.

The timer is set and ticks away above the sweating brow of all.  
Each of us fighting to go forward,  
Each of us blind to the best before date  
That has been set in stone beside our names.

As I think of you,  
I hear the ticking.  
I fear for whose clock stops next.  
The eyes of Time unforgiving in their watch

Every morning there is a different mourning  
As time ticks slowly on.  
Every moment lingers for just that moment  
And then passes until all are gone.


End file.
